


Less then my reflection

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: Viren's ongoing emotional crisis [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos isn't an active participant, Anal Fingering, Dubious Consent, Hair-pulling, M/M, Sex Magic, Viren's ongoing emotional crisis, Voyeurism, he's in mirrorbaby jail, viren has the ability to stop things and doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: He could stop this, with a word. but he closes his eyes, and lets it happen. tells himself it's what he deserves, its all he'll ever get.--Viren gets some against Aaravos's mirror and has a crisis about it





	Less then my reflection

**Author's Note:**

> I've got commissions and work stuff on my plate but I have no impulse control so here's even more free stuff. I've put a twitter link if anyone wants to drop me a ko-fi pfff

[ my twitter](https://twitter.com/goblinwrites)

[based off this](https://twitter.com/littleleafbun/status/1104177633930153984) picture by [Leaf](https://twitter.com/littleleafbun) on twitter

* * *

* * *

 

The glass was smooth, cool where it pressed against his flushed skin.

There were too many hands on him. Far too many, and they grabbed at him, slid down his legs- smoother his coat down his shoulders as clever fingers unlatched his belts, slid the leather slowly free until it dropped with a slap at his feet. His thick vest with its tails fell in a puddle of embroidery at his booted feet, as a hand stroked his hair, then gripped it hard, and forced his face against the glass. Viren grimaced, but still he did not fight.

 _“Absolutely lovely_ ,” whispered the elf in the mirror.

Viren’s breath warmed the glass, clouding it. He closed his eyes against the expression in those strange amber eyes; so _satisfied_. Like he was watching a pet do well. Or acquiring a possession.

The ghostly hands slid between Viren’s clothed thighs, dragging their palms up the insides and pulling his hips back into another set of hands. A third worked on his shirt, buttons undone and fabric behind pulled away – and still he couldn’t find his voice to protest. Maybe it was a spell—

 _Maybe you just want this_ , his traitor mind, calling out his tainted desires. _Your king is dead. Who else will touch you_?

Better the enemy then no one.  He shivered at the thought, and bit his traitor lips shut on a moan as the phantom hands with their long fingers and clever touch massaged the stiffness in the front of his pants, and worked the laces of his trousers loose.

He could feel those amber eyes on him. They felt like miniature suns, burning holes into his skin. His praise fell like needles, but Viren turned his face towards it like a plant seeking sunlight. Let this beautiful creature burn him to ash for his tainted, poisonous desire; he deserved it.

His trousers were pushed down his legs, and he balled his fists against the glass at the touch of nearly-solid hands now on his bare skin. They trailed between his thighs, touched too softly against his hardened cock, and then stroked down his sack. The wandering hands, unhindered by the laws of nature, unbound to solid form, passed between his legs like smoke, but he felt their touch as firmly as ever. Viren shifted uncomfortably, and was pulled back farther, bent towards the mirror by the hand in his hair, and the one on his hips.

“ _It’s a beautiful expression you’re making,_ ” said the elf, his voice rich and impossible to ignore, and Viren grit his teeth. Couldn’t pretend to be anywhere else.

Deep down, didn’t want to be. There was an allure about this encounter. Something only magic could provide.

The wetness that stroked down the cleft of his ass was a surprise; it was cold, and he jerked with a grunt, cracking his eyes to glare at Aaravos’s smug expression.  More hands, taking hold of his asscheeks, spreading him.  The wetness ran along his exposed hole, circling it teasingly.

Viren would have cursed him out, but that’s what the elf wanted. Instead, he clutched at the Mirror’s ornate frame, panting from the light teasing touches, the many hands winding him up; how long had it been? Surely not that long. Harrow had him less these days, the death of Thunder a strain on their already tense…. Whatever they had had.

A wet finger pushed past his hole, jerking him from his thoughts. Aaravos’s conjuring’s wasted no time, pressing deep and moving in and then back out of him, quickly. A crude mimicry of fucking, too small to satisfy, but his pulse skipped, and his breath caught. His belly tensed in anticipation.

Another finger, too soon, but slick and cool, forcing his body to accept its intrusion. Spreading him on invisible fingers, and he rubbed his face against the mirror, licked his lips. His cock bobbed, beading with desire. They did not rub against the spot inside him like Harrow had, instead skated around it, teased him. Kept his body tense with anticipation.

The third finger was too much, yet not enough; Viren groaned hard, but bit his tongue to stifle it, brow furrowing. He would not let the elf win.

A tut of disapproval. “ _Let me hear you_.”

No, no he wouldn’t stoop so low. Bad enough to expose himself so.

The fingers curled, moving in and out of his body as they rubbed along that _spot_ , and he shouted in surprise, face flushed with the sudden pleasure. The elf returned to toying with him, the wet slurp of fingers fucking fast into Viren’s pliant body filling the room, mingling with his harsh breathes.

He would cum without a cock in him at this rate, too wound up by his own disgust with himself and the elf’s clever touches.

“ _perhaps when I am free, we will do this properly. You, on your back, writhing in sheets. I can make you beg for me. Ask to be taken by an elf.”_

The phantom tough of something larger at his entrance made Viren stiffen, heart beating hard. The surge of want, of heat that came straight up from his belly must have showed on his face because Aaravos chuckled, low and dark.

“ _smoke and magic… but the real thing. I bet you’ll dream of it. Being pinned on my cock, speared on me and too full to move. Used for the pleasure of your enemy…. Just like your King used you.”_

Viren tensed, and came with a wet moan, cumming on the glass between them.  The smokey magic fingers lingered, slowly fucking him through his orgasm until he was weak at the knees, clutching the mirror for support.

He opened his eyes the Aaravos fading from view, the fire dying out int the room on the other side. The elf had a soft, knowing smile.

“ _sweet dreams, Lord Viren.”_

 The smoky hands fade, leaving him empty and alone, shivering and trying to catch is breathe.  He remembered the brief press of the smoky cock against his hole, and bit his lip until he tasted blood, sinking slowly to his knees before the dirtied mirror.

 _You’re still a servant_ , whispered his mind. He couldn’t find the energy the argue with it.


End file.
